


Photography and Scars

by Redamber79



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Photographer, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Confident Cullen Rutherford, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Modeling, Rimming, Scars, Top Dorian Pavus, Veterans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-18 09:54:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21509173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redamber79/pseuds/Redamber79
Summary: Cullen has been given leave from the Kirkwall Templars to enter rehab and physiotherapy for his many wounds. But the bills are ramping up. A friend suggests modelling, and though he doesn't see himself that way, he figures it's worth a shot.Dorian Pavus is not like any photographer he'd ever thought to meet. And that's a very good thing.
Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 10
Kudos: 112





	Photography and Scars

**Author's Note:**

> Smut. Bit of angst, but then smut.

Cullen sat on his worn, comfortable leather couch and hesitated. He looked again at the number Leliana had given him, dialed, then cleared his phone without hitting send. He couldn't do it. He had to do it, he needed the money. His predicament was not going to just go away. Rehab had been terribly expensive, plus there was the ongoing expense of physiotherapy, and he was trying to get his bills under control. He knew he was physically able to do the job, years in the Templar military had guaranteed that he was strong and fit, and he was told he was handsome, though he didn't see it. But there had to be something out there other than a part-time gig as a model that could dig him out of the financial pit he was in. 

Finally he just shook his head and dialed, waiting for the photographer to answer. There was no shame in needing the money, after all. The modeling agency had told him to get started, he would need a portfolio, and that one of the best photographers around was also a veteran. So here he was, about to shell out money to a photographer for a portfolio, to try to get into the modeling business. It seemed insane.

After several rings, an automated voice told him the person he was trying to dial was unavailable. He sighed, and left a brief message, with his name and number, and that he was also a vet.

**

Two days later, Cullen's phone rang just as he was finishing a workout, the physio part of his rehabilitation. He scooped up the phone, and answered quickly, still somewhat breathless.

"Hello? Rutherford speaking."

A polished, urbane voice answered, the accent placing the man as from Tevinter.

"Ah, yes, allow me to introduce myself. Dorian Pavus, of Minrathous. More recently of Redcliffe, assisting the war efforts there. Now, I understand you wish my help in creating a portfolio to commence a modeling career. Would you care to come by the studio this afternoon to discuss what you would expect, and to go over a contract? This is simply a review so you might know what it entails, I have no expectation that we will sign anything today."

"Ah, no... I mean, yes. That is... blast!” He ran his fingers through sweat damp curls, rubbing at his neck in a habitual gesture. “Yes, this afternoon would be quite alright. Do I need to bring anything in particular?"

Dorian gave a soft chuckle, and Cullen shivered slightly, then shrugged it off as his body cooling as sweat dried.

“Nothing complicated. Just yourself, in fact. Though I would ask that if your habit is to use any product in your hair, leave it alone for today, simply so I have the truest grasp of what I'll be working with if we do decide to go forward with a partnership. Will 2 o'clock work for you?”

“I… ah… yes, that will be fine,” Cullen stammered, flushing at his inability to hold a conversation over the phone. How was he ever to manage modeling?

“I'll text you my studio's address, see you in three hours. Until then.” The line went dead, and Cullen stared at his phone for a minute then shrugged.

_ I might as well go, won't hurt to try…  _ he thought to himself. _ And if it pays as well as promised, that'll go a long way towards my bills. _

**

Two hours later Cullen was debating shaving, but decided to leave the scruff. The photographer had been adamant about seeing him as is, and he could always shave before a shoot if needed. He glanced in the mirror and shook his head. His hair was nearly to his shoulders and a mass of blond curls. He never left it without some sort of product to take it, but that could always be sorted later. He glanced out the bathroom window, glad for the mild spring sunshine. Humidity would have been an unmitigated disaster. 

He checked the address he'd received, and pulled it up on his cell. He hated using GPS, and would much rather check routes himself. He supposed it was his military training, reading a map had been drilled into him in Basic.

He wandered from the bathroom to his bedroom, and pulled on a close-fitting pair of dark wash jeans, then a deep red Henley. Heading to the door, he shoved his feet into a well worn pair of boots, the ankles scuffed, the toe cap on the left boot worn. He scooped up his leather jacket, grabbed his helmet, and headed out of his apartment. 

Cullen strode down the hall, waving to his elderly neighbour as she waited for the elevator with her toy poodle. The tiny dog yapped away fiercely as Cullen passed, heading for the stairs.

“Cullen,” Mrs. Giselle called after him, her tone cajoling. “Come, take the elevator!”

Cullen grinned at her and shook his head.

“I've an appointment, and I'll be faster! Good exercise for my leg, too.” He hit the heavy stairwell door with his hip, and made short work of the six flights down to the parking level below the building. The gloom in the underground parking was disconcerting, but he made his way to his Triumph Bonneville without incident, or jumping at shadows. He pulled his helmet on and started up his bike, pulling on his gloves as he waited for it to warm up. He double checked his helmet was secured, then pulled out of his parking spot and around to the exit ramp. 

The sunlight piercing the gloom at the exit nearly blinded him, and he grumbled briefly before dropping the sun visor built into his helmet. He pulled out into traffic and made his way across the city, enjoying the control needed to drive his bike. He arrived roughly 15 minutes early, and found a coffee shop across the street from his destination. 

He wandered in, stuffing his gloves into his jacket pockets, and removing his helmet. He slung it over one arm by the strap, and ran his fingers through his hair, trying desperately to cool his sweat-damp scalp. His eyes scanned the small shop, noting the warm, casual décor. He made his way to the counter, and was greeted by a lovely brunette with honey amber eyes. 

“What can I get for you today?” she asked softly, and he smiled broadly at her familiar accent. His gaze flicked to her name tag. Bethany. 

“I would love a medium salted-caramel latte, light on the whip, please.” The young woman behind the counter smiled up at him, and handed him the debit machine when he held up his card.

“It will be just a moment, and Carver will have that ready for you at the end of the counter. Was that for here?” Her question was phrased innocently enough, but by the light flush on her cheeks and the way she glanced up at him through her lashes, Cullen knew she was hoping he'd be staying.

“To go, thank you,” he replied gently, giving her a small smile as he put his wallet away. He watched her face fall slightly, and dropped some change into the tip jar. “Here, for the reminder of Ferelden.”

She stared up at him, her smile even more star-struck and hopeful than before. 

Blast. How is it half the time when he wanted to flirt, he was a stammering nitwit, and when he was simply being friendly, it was mistaken for flirting? He gave a quick nod, and stepped aside, letting the next customer approach and order. He watched as a tall young man with the same dark hair as Bethany quickly made his drink, taking care to go light on the whip. His eyes swept over the young man assessingly, noting the broad shoulders and strong biceps. He also spotted a familiar tattoo on his forearm. Cullen had one of his own, though a different regiment. 

Carver, he supposed, turned and handed him his drink, his blue eyes brilliant even in the dim lighting of the café. Cullen flashed him a grin as he accepted the beverage, but left with no more than a quick thanks. The clock at the end of the counter told him he was down to seven minutes 'til his appointment, and he didn't want to be late.

He reached the door at the same time as a handsome man roughly his own age, olive-skinned, with black hair sweeping his neck on one side, but shaved to the scalp on the other. He wore tight black chinos showing a delectable ass, and a rich burgundy dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Hugging his torso was a deliciously form-fitting grey corset vest, emphasizing the muscular arms and shoulders and the trim waist. Cullen held the door and nodded for the other man to precede him, and the man met his glance with a flirtatious smile under a perfectly groomed moustache. 

“My thanks,” the man murmured, stepping through the doorway, not noticing that Cullen had frozen to the spot. A cough from behind him startled Cullen into motion again with a curse as he sloshed his coffee into his hand.

“Blast it all!” he muttered, sucking on his reddened fingers. He looked himself over, and decided there was no real damage, just his bruised pride. That was typical. Sighing heavily, he paused next to his bike, suddenly considering leaving.  _ Idiot. Still need the money… _

He checked the traffic, and jogged across the street carefully. Last thing he needed to do was put a foot wrong and bugger up his leg again. He strode up to the door advertising Pavus Photography, and walked in.

**

Dorian glanced up as the door chimed, and grinned at the gorgeous blond man from the coffee shop. He might be here for a photo session, but Dorian knew when he was being checked out, and tall, blond, and rugged had certainly been checking him out.

“How may I help you? I'm afraid I haven't much time to dally,” and he loaded that word with meaning, smirking as the man blushed slightly, “but I do have an appointment who ought to be here shortly.”

The blond gaped at him a moment, then shook his head with a wry smile of his own.

“I'm well aware, Mr. Pavus,” the man told him as he strode forward, stopping to lean against the counter, and it was Dorian's turn to flush as he recognized the voice. He briefly hoped his darker complexion would conceal his embarrassment, but as Cullen's smile widened to a grin, he knew he was out of luck.

“Well, that was inappropriate of me… I do apologize,” he said smoothly, coming around the counter to lock the door. Cullen cocked his head in question, and Dorian found himself stammering as he explained. “Normally I have an assistant with me, but he has the day off, so rather than have someone walk in with the front office unattended, I'm simply closed for the time we're occupied.”

“Alright, where might I leave my gear?” Cullen asked, setting his helmet on the counter as he shrugged out of his leather jacket.

Dorian blinked a few moments, the broad shoulders and trim waist leaving him momentarily at a loss for words. Cullen coughed lightly and Dorian met the man's gaze again. The blond was blushing slightly again and was rubbing at the back of his neck with his free hand. 

“The studio!” he blurted, then closed his eyes a moment, chastising himself. Very smooth, Pavus. Well done.

When he peered back at Cullen, the blond was still pink cheeked, but now was biting his lower lip, with a shy smile hovering about his lips.

_ Oh, no, _ Dorian thought desperately as his heart gave an odd thump.  _ He simply cannot be gorgeous AND adorable, that simply was not fair! _ Just as well Bull has the day off, he'd never hear the end of the teasing.

He walked quickly behind the counter and collected his tea, and waved Cullen along.

“Come on then, we can sit in the studio, get you under the lights, and talk about your expectations versus mine.”

**

Cullen followed the photographer back, and tried to keep his eyes on the man's shoulders or head. Blast the man, he walked with just enough of a sway that Cullen found his eyes drawn down to his hips and ass over and over. 

_ No, stop that train of thought, you cannot be half-hard while he inspects what he has to work with! _ Wrong tactic, his brain quickly supplied, his cock giving a little twitch as his imagination filled in far too many details for that inspection.

_ Fade-blasted, nug-humping...! _ he cursed himself, before resorting to the least sexy images he could summon. Commander Stannard naked. The bunker at Kinloch that had been overrun. Ser Alrik. 

That last did it, though now his blood was near boiling with anger as it always did when he thought of the lieutenant and how long Meredith had protected him.

He realised he'd followed Dorian blindly, and was now in a beautifully lit studio at the back of the building, the floor to ceiling windows showing a courtyard and high walls teeming with ivy. He met Dorian's curious glance, and ducked his head, rubbing at his neck.

“Are you quite alright, Cullen? For a moment…” Dorian paused, hesitant, then continued with a graceful shrug. “You looked terribly angry for a moment.”

“A stray thought from my past,” Cullen explained, hoping the handsome photographer would drop it.

“Ah, those will happen at times. Well, to start, you have a very expressive face, so if we can get certain expressions on command, I think we'll be able to do quite well.” Dorian dropped into a chair, slouching with his legs stretched out before him, his ankles crossed, and indicated Cullen should take the other chair. Cullen carefully set his helmet on the ground, having found that it was far safer to simply avoid the risk of it being dropped, and thus having to replace the damn thing again.

Cullen lowered himself into the chair, and leaned forward with his elbows propped on his muscular thighs. He took a quick drink of his coffee, humming at the salty-sweet caramel, and looked at Dorian, inspecting the man quickly.

He'd said he was from Minrathous, and his complexion certainly seemed to indicate the same. His grey-blue eyes stared back at Cullen unwaveringly, and he remembered that the polished photographer was apparently also a veteran. Cullen's eyes dropped to the man's forearm, but unlike most of the soldiers he knew, no tattoos. He saw Dorian smile slightly, and knew that his curiosity had been noted.

“It's not on my arm,” Dorian murmured softly, his voice warm and amused.

“I… what?” Cullen replied, intelligently, before mentally kicking himself.

“My tattoo. I have one, as I presume you do,” he said with a graceful wave of one hand toward Cullen's left arm. “Mine simply isn't on my arm. I preferred something a little more, hmmm. Discreet.”

Cullen nodded, then his gaze sharpened. Most soldiers he knew had their tattoos on their right forearm or bicep. Cullen's was on his left. He wondered how Dorian knew.

“What precisely are you looking for in this relationship?” Dorian asked suddenly, steepling his hands, tapping at his chin.

“Excuse me?” Cullen asked in shock, then flushed scarlet. The man meant their business relationship. “Bloody hell. I apologise. I'm not always a blithering idiot. I suppose this whole endeavour has me on edge. It's… unfamiliar territory.”

Dorian gave him a small smile, kindly not commenting on the misunderstanding.

“Of course. A transition from soldier to civilian is always trying. To something like modeling, well, most veterans I've spoken to about it feel the exposure of modeling uncomfortable. But if you feel it will suit, and you can accept that depending on your success you could become quite well known, then I see no reason for us not to proceed.”

Cullen thought about that, and nodded slowly.

“I take your meaning. But I needn't accept higher profile shoots if I were uncomfortable with them, correct?”

“That would depend on you and your agent, and what kind of agreement you come to. Also, since this is essentially a financially spurred decision, the higher profile shoots tend to pay more as well.”

“Agent? Do I need one?” Cullen asked, uncertainly.

“I would recommend one. Either one attached to a placement agency, or a photographer who has contacts of the right type.”

“I see,” Cullen replied, mulling that over. His golden bronze eyes suddenly pinned Dorian to his seat. “Well, do you?”

“I beg your pardon?” Dorian gaped, caught off-guard by the question. “Me? I do, however…”

He trailed off, toying with his moustache a moment before continuing.

“The contracts I work with are of a very specific type, and I'm not certain they'd be what you're looking for.”

“If you say so,” Cullen replied with a shrug. “Well, you said you wanted to see what you had to work with. As requested, no product in my hair, which combined with the helmet, well. The results can be somewhat haphazard.”

Dorian looked him over with a critical eye, and Cullen fought to sit still under that assessing gaze.

“Artfully disheveled suits you, actually. The military bearing is obvious, we can work with that, but we'll have to see if we can get a few more relaxed poses as well. Now,” and here Dorian leaned closer, his elbows on his knees, his grey eyes meeting Cullen's with an understanding look. “Have you any injuries or scars you don't wish to allow on camera?”

Cullen blinked, surprised at the question. Dorian gave a wry smile, his eyes twinkling.

“Why do you think I work with so many fellow veterans? We all have our scars, Cullen. Some prefer to keep those private, others don't mind showing them off.”

Cullen found himself wondering about Dorian's service record, and what scars he carried. He shook his head in answer and Dorian stood.

**

Dorian walked Cullen through a variety of poses, trying to see whether the man could relax in front of the camera.

“Have you family here?” he asked as he gestured for Cullen to turn towards the windows. 

“No, they're back in Ferelden.” Cullen moved stiffly, and couldn't seem to relax further than parade rest. Dorian shook him head, and brought over a high stool. 

“Alright, one foot on the rung, elbow on that knee. Other foot on the floor. Now slouch a bit. Come on then, loosen up. Do you sit that stiffly on your bike? I shouldn't think so, you need to move with the bike to control it.”

Finally that seemed to get through, and Cullen relaxed into the pose. 

“Much better! Now, keep your face toward the windows, but look towards me. Better… now, you were telling me of your family. Back in Ferelden, you say? That makes it hard to visit. So, have you no one here then?”

Cullen sent him a startled look, then gave a rueful smile. 

“Yes, it is hard to visit, but I joined the military at sixteen, so it has been some time since I've seen them. I have a nephew I’ve never met, and I haven’t seen my oldest niece and nephew since they were babes in arms. Even my youngest sister, Rosalie, will have grown so I may not recognize her. I've no idea if she'll recognize me, either. My older sister, Mia, keeps pestering me to visit when I have time. I suppose now that I'm not on active duty any longer I should.”

“I quite understand. I left home rather precipitously myself, and have not spoken to my parents since. No siblings to keep track of either. So I've simply made myself a home wherever I happened to be.” Dorian examined the pose for a few moments, then asked him to stand, leaning against the wall, with his arms crossed. Cullen followed his directions, and Dorian frowned a moment, muttering to himself. “Too closed off, that one, let me think.”

Cullen gave a shrug, and dropped his arms to hook his thumbs in his belt loops, planting one foot on the wall with his knee bent. He watched the handsome photographer make a few notes, and grinned as Dorian ran his fingers through his hair, disturbing the carefully done style. Stray locks fell over his forehead, and he brushed them back absently, not seeming to notice as they immediately fell again. Cullen ran a hand through his hair, the unruly curls catching on his fingers. 

“Don't move,” Dorian ordered suddenly, and Cullen froze, glancing at the photographer from under his lashes. Dorian was studying him intently, walking back and forth to check angles. He turned and scooped up Cullen's motorcycle jacket, and tossed it to him. “On, then back to the same pose, please.”

Cullen shrugged into his jacket, and automatically started to zip it, but Dorian shook his head quickly.

“Leave it undone. This is about the look, not the function,” he instructed, his hands on his hips. He hesitated a moment, nibbling on his lower lip, then shrugged gracefully. “I know we don’t have a contract yet, that this was about whether we could work together, and what the expectations might be, but would you allow me to snap a couple shots? I'm not even setting up the lighting, I just want you to see what I see.”

Cullen gave a shy smile, and nodded. He waited as Dorian fetched a camera, giving a crooked smile as the photographer fiddled with settings. Dorian looked up and frowned slightly. Cullen realized this wasn't an indication of upset, but simply that he was puzzling over something.

“You were brushing your hair back from your face, tilt your chin down a bit, wait…”

Dorian strode across the room to stand before Cullen, and stood within half a foot of him, scrutinizing the pose carefully. Cullen found his eyes were drawn to a beauty mark at the point of Dorian's cheekbone, and felt himself flushing at the thought of kissing his way over it. He looked away to the floor, ducking his head a little, trying to hide his blush. 

“Cullen, look here,” Dorian called softly, his tone coaxing. 

Cullen looked up at Dorian through his lashes and heard several clicks of the camera as Dorian backed up and moved about in a semicircle.

“So I couldn't help but notice Bethany at the café seemed quite taken with you,” Dorian mentioned with a grin, hoping to draw out different reactions and expressions for the camera. Deer in the headlights wasn’t quite what he expected. He snapped a photo anyway; it was just too adorable to pass up.

“Was she? That's… um… she seemed like a lovely girl, but…” Cullen flushed red, stammering his way further into embarrassment. 

Dorian decided to grant him a partial rescue.

“Jacket off, hook it over your shoulder, please.” He snapped a couple more photos, then smirked. “Probably as well to steer clear of the girl anyway, with her twin and older sister both working in the café as well.”

“She has a twin?” Cullen asked, curious.

“Mm. You met him, Carver makes the drinks. He tends to keep a close eye on his sisters, even if the eldest is already married.”

Cullen snorted, thinking of his own sisters. He knew Mia would never have put up with that from him, and she had a right hook strong enough to dissuade his protective nature.

“Well, Carver need not worry about me. Bethany was a polite young woman, but she's certainly not my type.”

“Oh?” Dorian invested a wealth of meaning in the question as he continued to snap photos. He moved all the way to the side, so for Cullen to keep his eyes on the camera, he had to turn his head sharply. His voice dropped a little, and Cullen had to strain to hear him. “And what might your type be?”

**

_ Andraste's ass, why would I ask that?! _ Dorian mentally slapped himself, not needing to jeopardize a potential working partnership with ill-timed flirting. He pulled his camera up to refocus on the shoot and felt his mouth go dry at what he saw through the lens.

Cullen had turned to face him, no longer leaning with his back against the wall, but braced with one forearm against the wall above his head, his jacket hooked over his other shoulder. The red Henley he wore was pulled taut over his bicep and shoulder, and had ridden up enough to flash a delectable stretch of skin above his jeans. 

And the look on Cullen's face… Dorian's hand spasmed, snapping several photos, even as he swallowed unconsciously. Cullen wasn't looking at the camera. He was looking through it. His chin dropped a touch, so he looked up from under lowered brows, and his scarred lip twisted in what could only be called a smirk. One eyebrow cocked upward in challenge, his golden-brown eyes intense.

Dorian wet his lips and lowered the camera slowly, despite the temptation to keep it between them as a shield. He could feel his heart rate increase and took half a step forward. Cullen's smile turned nearly predatory as he strode forward, grasping Dorian's chin in one hand, tilting his face up.

“My type?” Cullen murmured. “Confident, intelligent, charming, interesting--” He swept his eyes down Dorian's body and Dorian fought to conceal a small shiver at the weight of that gaze. “--impeccably dressed, and devilishly handsome doesn't hurt. It's always the personal little details though. A sense of style, for instance,” he commented, looking over Dorian's unusual haircut, “or perhaps something else that draws the eye…”

Dorian held his breath, his eyes widening as Cullen brushed a calloused fingertips over the beauty mark on his cheekbone. Cullen gave a slow smile, his eyes flicking down to Dorian's lips. Dorian fought not to lick them, but something must have given him away, because Cullen's eyes darkened, and he was slowly bending towards Dorian.

“Hey, Boss!” 

The booming voice of his assistant rang through the studio, and Cullen stepped back smoothly, leaving Dorian standing with his cheeks flushed and his camera dangling from its strap. 

“Boss, you here? You should see the sweet bike out front, it's just the kind you--"

“Yes, Bull, I’m here with a client!” Dorian interrupted with a furious blush, noticing Cullen's amused glance.

**

"Sorry to interrupt, Boss." The deep voice rumbled, and the largest Qunari Cullen had ever seen strolled around the corner from the front office. A friendly smile curved his lips, and a silver eye patch covered one eye amid myriad scars. The grey eye that glanced swiftly about the room took in everything, from Cullen's helmet off to one side, to Dorian's flushed cheeks and loose grip on his camera, right down to the stubble on Cullen's cheeks. If he were a gambling man, he'd bet the Qunari could tell him what he had for breakfast last week, which was a disconcerting feeling. 

"Another Templar vet, huh? Served with a few regiments in my day. You do good work."

Shaken, Cullen nodded slowly. He'd identified himself as a veteran when making the appointment with Dorian but hadn't said with whom he'd served.

"Bull is a former Ben-Hassrath. He likes to surprise people with his insight," Dorian murmured, and Cullen glanced over to find the man close by his side.

"And Dorian usually has a laugh about it with me, " Bull said sardonically. "But you he tells right off the bat. You've made an impression."

"Weren't you leaving?" Dorian asked tartly, and Cullen found himself smothering a grin. Dorian's cheeks were flushed under his olive complexion, and Cullen found himself wondering if he'd be able to feel that heat burning against his fingers if he were to cradle his jaw.

"Sure thing. Listen though, vint. Tell him where you served. Now." With that cryptic command, Bull turned and left the brightly lit studio, and there was a chime as the front door opened and closed behind him. 

Dorian muttered a curse under his breath, one of the few words in Tevene that Cullen understood. "He would spring that. Perhaps we ought to sit down again, Cullen."

Wary now, Cullen returned to his seat and took up his drink, now scarcely more than luke-warm as he sipped.

"Tell me," Cullen ordered, and Dorisn brushed his long hair back from his face.

"I'm an Altus." Cullen felt his shoulders stiffen, memories of torture and agony scrolling past his mind's eye. Dorian continued. "I served with the Magisterium until I was discharged for conduct unbecoming, which is when I moved from Tevinter to Redcliffe and took up my second passion, photography, to help the troops and civilians in the aftermath of the war."

"What was so unbecoming about your conduct?" Cullen asked, his voice soft and uncertain. What could have been so bad that the Tevene army had rousted this mage? War crimes?

"I prefer the company of men." Dorian's tone was clipped, matter-of-fact. 

Cullen was startled, and he knew his expression betrayed him. "I beg your pardon?" he stammered, surely that couldn't be cause for--

_ "Men! _ And the company thereof, as in sex. Surely you've heard of it!" Dorian interrupted scathingly. 

Cullen rolled his eyes, his own nervousness at being alone with a mage disappearing in a wave of irritation at this stubborn, frustrating,  _ delightful _ man. 

"Pardon my surprise that the great Tevinter empire could possibly be so backwards," Cullen retorted. "Were you fucking a commanding officer or a subordinate?"

"Of course not!" Dorian stood and stalked away from the small table, indignation in every line of his body. After a moment his shoulders slumped and he turned with a wry twist of his lips. "Were it a female superior, I’d have been applauded."

"Then why such a fuss?" Cullen asked.

Dorian shook his head and slid into a comfortable sprawl in his chair once again. He rolled up his sleeves casually, and Cullen found himself staring at the strong forearms revealed. Blast that assistant anyway, if he'd been but a few minutes later…  _ if he'd been a few minutes later you'd have had the photographer stripped naked and on your cock, one way or another.  _ Acknowledging the wry voice of honesty in his mind, Cullen wondered what to do about the man.

The mage.

Cullen waited for the twist of fear, the flashbacks that used to consume him… and was shocked to feel nothing of the sort. Instead, he found himself eyeing the other man, from the delicate curve of his ear exposed by the shaven hair, to the hint of the collarbone hiding behind his hair on the other side. Dorian's expression revealed a hint of surprise, and Cullen leaned forward, into his space. 

"Tell me, Dorian. Of the modelling agents you know, are any veterans as we are?" Cullen asked, his tactician's mind whirring as he made his move.

Dorian blinked, his head cocked to one side curiously. "Not that I'm aware of. Why do you ask?"

Cullen shrugged, returning his coffee cup to the table. "Because I would rather deal with someone who understands my scars and my history than someone simply trying to get paid. Tell me. You aren't simply after me for my body, are you?" he dared to tease and was rewarded with a full-throated laugh from the photographer.

"Oh, you are glorious," Dorian announced joyfully. "But to be quite clear, many of my contracts are for a more… intimate setting and tone. I won't ask you to sign any contracts today, but you should perhaps look at my folio, so you're fully aware of the type of work I usually do."

With a courtly half-bow that he made look natural, Dorian gestured for Cullen to follow him. They went back up the hall and Dorian opened a door they'd passed on the way in. Cullen shook his head at himself, he'd scarcely noticed on the way in.  _ Letting a tight ass distract you, Rutherford, you're slipping! _

The door opened to reveal a small office, and Cullen's eyes were drawn to the black and white nude photo on the wall to his left. Long, lithe legs, a trim waist, broad shoulders supporting a staff overhead, the flicker of magic caught in the camera's lens. A hint of something in the smile cast over a shoulder, though the face was in shadow. A promise of pleasure, danger, perhaps both, and Cullen found himself stepping closer, captivated.

"It took me forever to get that shot. Cameras are fickle things about auras," Dorian commented, and Cullen's eyes suddenly caught the small details in the photo's shadows. The tiny beauty mark at the temple, the mustache, the undercut hair. And on the back of the right shoulder, a regiment tattoo, inscribed in the tevinter style. 

_ "Beautiful,"  _ he murmured, then shook himself, trying in vain to regain his equilibrium. That Dorian's blue-grey eyes were widened in shock at his comment did nothing to help him settle. "I… that is…  _ Maker's breath!" _ he stammered, running his hand over his neck. "The photo, the play of light against dark is very well done. It's a beautiful shot."

Dorian seemed to absorb his words with a wry, self-deprecating smile. "Ah, yes. Of course. Self-portraits can be challenging, but I'm rather pleased with the way this one turned out."

Cullen finally glanced back at Dorian, and dared to tease the photographer a little. "It does rather nicely show off your…  _ assets." _

Dorian's lips curved into a smile and he let out a soft chuckle. "Yes, well, between that and a glib tongue, and doors just pop open for me. Save in my own country, of course. But what I wanted to show you is these."

He sat at his desk, long, agile fingers tapping rapidly at the keyboard as images flashed up onto the monitor he'd turned Cullen's way. Black and white photos, stark and unforgiving in the pitiless details. Scars, fresh wounds, the red that Cullen knew all too well deepened to unrelieved black. He gasped. Or perhaps he made no sound at all, but he was transfixed by the harsh reality of the art before him.

"Forgive me. I should have warned you." Dorian spoke softly, and Cullen opened his eyes not having realized he'd closed them. His lukewarm coffee had fallen from nerveless fingers and onto the floor, the cup somehow landing upright. Cullen lifted his head to meet Dorian's gaze, and saw genuine regret and empathy in his eyes. "But let me show you one more. That you know I  _ do  _ understand what it is I ask of those I photograph." His fingers skipped tumbling over the keys and once again a self-portrait was before Cullen. Again, Dorian was nude, though a curtain, --a sash, perhaps?-- framed him and curved around one hip and over his groin to protect his modesty. 

The red of the sash stood out in sharp relief against Dorian's gorgeous olive skin, the curve of solid muscle surprising, and yet Cullen could see for himself that the mage was no shrinking violet. He let his eyes stop on the centre of the portrait, the focus. Scars, caused by mage fire perhaps, down his left flank and hip, travelling down his thigh. It must have been excruciating, and Cullen's own leg spasmed in sympathy. 

He stumbled slightly as his oldest injuries seized, and he tried to make it look nonchalant as he sat abruptly on the edge of Dorian's desk. The mage looked up at his sudden proximity, and Cullen shrugged mentally.  _ In for a copper, in for a gold. _

He reached out gently, and touched Dorian's ribs with a fingertip, so lightly he couldn't possibly be felt through the corset. "Mage fire, yes? It… it burns hotter. I recognize the wounds." Dorian flinched slightly, his eyes tightening for a moment before his polished mask was back in place. That wouldn't do. "I only mentioned it because I have many of the same scars." He turned his back slightly and rucked up his Henley a little, exposing his lower back. It was a mass of scars, the skin thick and twisted in red and white webs. He felt, distantly, the gentle touch at his spine.

"This wasn't a battle…" Dorian assessed, his voice trailing off as he realized the implication.

"Yes, I was a POW when Kinloch was taken. 'Taken'," he snorted. "Enough mincing of words, betrayed. And I was tortured, for weeks, maybe months, body and mind. That I emerged even relatively sane is nearly miraculous." He lowered his shirt, turned back to Dorian, and greatly daring, reached out to cup the mage's cheek. He saw the flash of surprise in his eyes, even as the pupils widened slightly. "And you, Dorian? I can scarcely believe this was simply a training accident form your youth," Cullen murmured, gesturing at the computer screen. 

Dorian shook his head slightly, leaning into Cullen's hand just a touch before sitting back. "My souvenir from Redcliffe. I helped free it from the Venatori. A parting gift, you could call it, from the man who tried to recruit me. His acceptance of my refusal was less than polite."

"He tried to kill you," Cullen corrected, searching Dorian's eyes, but the mage glanced away.

"Yes, well, he failed. Others weren't so lucky." Cullen saw again that small flinch in Dorian's features and turned so he was sitting on the edge of the desk facing Dorian.

"You lost someone?" he asked, only to see Dorian startle briefly and shake his head. 

"Not in the way you mean. He'd been my mentor, you see. And then…" Dorian shrugged. 

Cullen swallowed, memories of Kinloch flicking through his mind for a moment. He understood all too well. Dorian leaned forward again and clicked through the photos again, and Cullen saw that there were a great many servicemen and women in underwear, highly posed.

"Underwear models? Really?" he blurted, surprised.

"Indeed," Dorian replied. "A lucrative style. I refuse to treat our scars as shameful, or to pretend our bodies are not still beautiful."

"I must confess, I found it hard to see myself so for many years after Kinloch. And this is a role you see me fitting?" Cullen asked, uncertainly. 

"Fishing for compliments, are you, Commander? Oh yes, I looked you up. Quite the distinguished title, for all that you've semi-retired."

Cullen gave a derisive snort. "Is that what you heard? I fell to lyrium. I was given 'leave'--” He sneered at the word. "--and entered rehab before it killed me."

"Rehabilitation from lyrium addiction is no small thing. I've seen the consequences since coming south. It's not pretty. You must be very brave to have even dared it. To succeed? You said you were in rehab, not are. That kind of perseverance is formidable. And admirable."

"I think you're overestimating my qualities, Mr. Pavus," Cullen muttered with a blush, cursing his fair Ferelden skin.

"Or maybe it's the thick-headedness," Dorian continued. Cullen's head whipped up to stare at the mage in surprise, only to see a gleam in his eyes. He was teasing!

"What was it you said about a glib tongue?" Cullen snarked, pulling a low chuckle from Dorian.

"I should warn you, it tends to get me into trouble more than anything," Dorian confessed with a smile that said he rarely, if ever, regretted that trouble.

Cullen was never one to back down from a challenge and reached a gentle hand to brush Dorian's hair back from his ear, then leaned in to whisper softly. He felt Dorian shiver slightly as his nose grazed the curve of his ear, his breath warm against the mage's skin. "And if I said I wanted to see that kind of trouble?"

Dorian let out a soft gasp and turned into his touch, his smooth-shaven jaw like silk catching on the roughness of Cullen's stubble. Ducking into the movement, Cullen captured Dorian's lips in a fierce, passionate kiss, one that left the man gasping and reeling as they broke apart. 

"Vishante kaffas! Do you enter all contracts that way?" Dorian asked, gripping at Cullen's arm, his touch hot. 

Cullen reached for him again, pulling him closer by fingers tucked under the edge of his vest. "Only the important ones," he breathed, then their lips were meeting once again, this time slow and hot, a slick slide as Dorian opened for Cullen's questing tongue, a moan bubbling up to be swallowed down by Cullen as he devoured the mage's mouth. Dorian pushed him back a little and surged to his feet, leaning over Cullen where he sat on the edge of the desk.

Cullen leaned back on his hands for a moment, letting Dorian take control and lead the kiss. After a moment they parted and Cullen stared up at Dorian, a slow smile playing about his lips. 

"Is this how  _ you _ negotiate a contract?" Cullen teased, licking his lips, savouring the taste of the man still straddling one thigh. 

Dorian slid his hand into Cullen's hair, tightening his grip in the shoulder-length locks until Cullen hissed and tilted his head back into the pull, and Dorian laid a trail of soft, heated kisses along his throat and up his neck. Nipping at an earlobe, he teasingly ran his tongue along the shell of Cullen's ear and made him shiver. 

"Shall we continue this elsewhere, Cullen? I suddenly feel quite strongly about seeing what I’m working with. My private studio is upstairs, separate from the shop."

Cullen smirked. "Are you asking me to come look at your etchings, as it were?"

"Allow me to be blunt," Dorian said with a little smile that set Cullen's heart pounding. "I've a burning curiosity to know whether the rest of you tastes as sweet as your lips." Cullen gave a low groan at the thought of those lips wrapped around him, or pressed against his--

"Upstairs then,  _ now, _ Dorian!" Cullen ordered as he sprang to his feet, nearly knocking the mage off-balance he moved so quickly. Catching him about the waist, Cullen pulled him close with one arm, tangling his other hand in Dorian's hair and tugging his head to one side. Biting and sucking lightly at Dorian's throat, Cullen kneaded at the small of his back gently with his other hand until Dorian was squirming against him, both of them half hard already.

Dorian pulled back slightly and Cullen released his hair to let him move. Dorian pulled him along, pausing only to lock his computer, then they were outside in the mild spring sunshine, leaving Cullen blinking as Dorian led him to a door next to the studio. As Dorian muttered and fumbled with the lock, Cullen hovered close at his back, a breath away from touching. When the door opened onto a small landing, they stepped through into the relative darkness and Cullen pressed firmly against Dorian's back, one hand splayed over the mage's taut abdomen, the other grasping at his hip.

"Cullen, upstairs," Dorian ordered as he ground his perfect ass back against him, and Cullen groaned, his hands spasming tighter, then gripping nothing.

The cheeky mage had Fade-Stepped out of his arms and up the stairs. Cullen grinned, taking the steps two and three at a time, knowing if he stepped wrong his bad knee would send him tumbling. His luck and his knee both held, and he reached the top of the stairs just as Dorian opened the door, and he bore the mage through to press him firmly against the wall opposite the doorway.

"That's cheating, naughty mage," he growled, nipping at Dorian's throat and grinding against his ass again. Dorian pushed back firmly, drawing a moan from Cullen and gaining a few inches to move. He spun in Cullen's arms, and Cullen discovered to his delight that there were much of a height, with Dorian only an inch shorter than himself. Leaning in, he slanted his mouth over Dorian's again, grasping at his hips to press him back against the wall. Dorian let out a soft moan of his own and hauled at Cullen's shirt, untucking it further and sliding his hands up over his chest.

The touch of Dorian's hands against his skin ignited a fire in Cullen and he reached down to scoop Dorian up into his arms. Dorian cooperated by hopping up and wrapping his legs around Cullen's waist. The position left Cullen's mind reeling and he thrust his tongue past Dorian's lips even as his hips pushed against the delectable firmness of his ass.

Dorian pulled again from the kiss with a gasp, and Cullen set his teeth to his throat, sucking and nipping a mark over his pulse.

_ "Mine!"  _ he growled, hearing Dorian's breathless chuckle at his ear.

"Prove it. Down the hall to the left," Dorian instructed, though there was a false start until Dorian clarified that he'd meant  _ his _ left.

Cullen found the large studio overlooking the courtyard, and though he could see into the other studio below, there were no other windows on the facing walls. The ivy climbing the sunlight wall tinged the light vaguely green and peaceful, and Cullen nuzzled at Dorian's throat. Glancing about, Cullen spotted several large pieces of furniture strewn along the walls, a lounging chaise to the left, and a bed with brass wrought work for the headboard. Making a beeline for the bed, he climbed on before setting Dorian down, then pressed him slowly against the mattress. He kissed his way up his throat and along his jaw, then captured the mage's lips once again, his moustache tickling. 

Dorian hooked one muscular leg behind Cullen's leg, pulling him closer and began a slow, rocking bump and grind. 

"Fuck, Dorian," Cullen gasped, then leaned back and reached for the corset vest desperately. He fumbled with the clasps for a few moments before dropping his forehead to Dorian's breastbone with a groan of frustration.

"Was that a request, or a suggestion?" Dorian teased, his nimble fingers making short work of the vest's closures and shrugging out of it. Cullen attacked the mother of pearl buttons on his burgundy shirt, quickly stripping Dorian out of it and leaving his torso bare. He stared down at him hungrily, his eyes sweeping over the broad expanse of olive skin, the scars standing out harshly. 

Cullen bent and laid his lips against the top edge of the scarring reverently. He kissed his way down Dorian's side, worshiping Dorian's body with his hands and mouth. Dorian trembled beneath his touch, and Cullen glanced up to see tears in his would-be lover's eyes. He lifted his head in concern, only to have Dorian huff a laugh and swipe a hand across his eyes. Smiling softly in understanding, Cullen stripped his own shirt, baring his own scarred body to Dorian's gaze.

"Fasta vas, Cullen, you're breathtaking." Dorian pulled Cullen up into his arms, kissing him softly, passionately. He slid his hands down Cullen's back, over rigid and puckered scars, and Cullen fought not to tense. Dorian must have sensed something, because his hands froze, and he pushed Cullen back just far enough to meet his eyes. Cullen glanced away.

"My scars, they're not pretty, Dorian."

"Do you trust me, Cullen?" Dorian asked, and Cullen paused. Did he? Did he trust this man, this  _ mage _ he'd only just met? Whatever the reason, the answer was yes.

He nodded.

****

Dorian felt a smile stretching his lips and squirmed out from under the other man. "Facedown. Lose the jeans though."

Cullen watched him stand and strip with a smirk, his eyes heating as he took in the tiny, barely concealing thong Dorian wore under his slacks.

"Tsk, Dorian, buy me dinner first," Cullen teased, even as he bent and removed his heavy, worn motorcycle boots. Kicking them aside with a thunk, Cullen stood and slowly undid his jeans, the drag of the zipper interminable, until Dorian's hands were twitching to strip the man himself. His gaze roved over the blond man again and Dorian caught the sly, confident smirk curving Cullen's lips. 

"Cullen, you--" He swallowed his next words as Cullen suddenly let the jeans fall, revealing mass of blond curls and his cock half hard amid them. A ring pierced the head and Dorian's mouth watered at the sight. 

Cullen's thighs were thick and strong, though a brutal scar marred the right leg above the knee. He kicked his pants loose and turned with another smirk and a wink, and lowered himself to the bed, leaving Dorian gaping. 

He took a long moment to let his gaze move over the gorgeous man lying before him: the broad shoulders, the back thick with muscle, the trim waist, the perfectly rounded ass that made him want to sink his teeth into it. For now, however, he straddled Cullen's hips and summoned a vial of his favourite massage oil. He warmed it in his hands for a moment then slowly began stroking and soothing his way over the mass of scars on Cullen's back. Cullen groaned as he applied firmer pressure, and the sound went straight to Dorian's cock, making it twitch under the silk that did little to conceal his aroused state.

To pay Cullen back a little for the strip tease, Dorian canted his hips and leaned forward, trailing scorching kisses down Cullen's back even as he rolled his hips. Cullen moaned for him, arching under his touch and sending shivers down Dorian's spine. Not wanting to finish like that, Dorian shift his hips back, and straightened to continue the massage. He dug deeply into the scarred muscle, warming the oil with his hands and his magic to help it soothe the tightened tissues. Cullen rolled his shoulders and spine, giving an appreciative groan that did little for Dorian's self-control.

Cullen shifted under his hands again, forcing Dorian to reach further, grumbling under his breath about giving Cullen a spanking if he couldn't keep still. The blond under his hands let out a breathy laugh at the suggestion.

"So I was right, you  _ are _ a naughty mage," Cullen commented, then let out a sharp gasp when Dorian brought his hand down in a firm slap to his ass.

"And you a naughty Templar, I see," Dorian retorted, watching smugly as Cullen shuddered. "Now will you behave, or must I rescind my offer of a massage?"

"No! No… your hands feel--" Dorian worked at a knot more firmly and Cullen moaned for him again. "--Maker, they feel good."

"The massage, or the spanking?" Dorian asked, bending to nip lightly at the curve of one shoulder, pulling a groan from Cullen even as his ears and the back of his neck turned pink in a blush. "Or perhaps both…" Cullen squirmed under his hands. "How interesting. Something to explore on another occasion, I should think."

Cullen gasped again as he gave a much lighter slap to his ass and Dorian chuckled softly. Dorian soothed his hand over the curve of Cullen's ass, stroking up his back to work on the tense muscles and marred flesh. Leaning forward again, he focused on a stubborn knot until Cullen was moaning and twitching underneath him, muttering breathy pleas into the pillow.

"Mmm, Dorian,  _ fuck!"  _ he cursed as he writhed and Dorian was fighting a losing battle against his own arousal when he realized that the shifting beneath him was somewhat rhythmic. He stopped moving his hands, watching the body beneath him, and gave a low groan as Cullen's hips twitched forward, driving into the mattress softly. Making a quick decision, Dorian squirmed down the bed and made himself comfortable between Cullen's legs, even as his movement pulled a low whimper from the blond. Cullen thrust harder against the mattress and Dorian brought his hand down in a merciless smack. Cullen's head flew back on a pleasured cry, sending Dorian's mind spinning.

"You, sir, are a brat. Another time, I said. For now, however…" Dorian bent to blow a slow breath over the cleft of Cullen's ass, stirring the fine blond curls and making him shudder again, "now I have something else in mind. If you're of a mind, that is."

He bent and nipped at one cheek lightly, then laved his tongue over the spot, teasing and staying far from his true destination for now. He massaged each perfect globe in a hand, pushing and pulling at Cullen's flesh until he was trembling underneath his touch, then finally,  _ finally _ he bent and blew over his tightly puckered hole, watching it clench and release and groaning at the sight. 

Dorian paused, squeezing Cullen's thigh lightly. He felt the other man go still, waiting. Leaning in, Dorian deliberately dragged his moustache up Cullen's cleft, over his entrance, and then pulled back. "Yes, darling?"

"Maker's breath Dorian, get your tongue or your-- _ augh!"  _ Dorian dragged his tongue down the path he'd just travelled in the opposite direction, then wriggling closer, he set to his self-appointed task of pulling the Commander apart. 

He nipped and sucked at the tight ring, tonguing at it until Cullen was writhing and crying out, then pressing, stiffening it like a spear when he felt the muscles loosen. Wriggling his tongue forward, deeper, he groaned at the scorching heat, the musk that threatened to overwhelm his senses. Giving a low growl, Dorian pulled Cullen's hips back, canting them higher, and dove back in. Dorian hummed against the tight ring, making Cullen buck underneath his touch, then slapped his ass as he saw Cullen's hand reach for his own cock. Cullen froze, whimpering. 

"Oh no, you don't, Commander. Far too eager." Dorian snapped his fingers, summoning more slick, and pressed one long finger in alongside his tongue, sliding it back and forth gently until Cullen's tight passage loosened, even as the man begged and pleaded for more. Dorian instead pulled his hand away and bent to tease his tongue over the heavy sac swaying below, drawing a yelp from Cullen as he carefully sucked one smooth globe into his mouth. He rolled it on his tongue oh so gently then let it go before treating the other to the same. Moving back again he drew his tongue up from Cullen's balls to his hole, spearing his tongue in again and again, then sliding in two fingers without warning. 

"Maker, fuck!" Cullen shouted, the blasphemy falling from his tongue easily even as Dorian scissored his fingers slightly. "Enough, Dorian, I need--Maker's fucking  _ cock _ \--Dorian, get in me!"

Chuckling low and deeply, Dorian gave a last swipe over his tongue over Cullen's hole as he withdrew his fingers. "Are you sure two is enough, darling? You're going to be feeling it…"

Cullen squirmed and rolled underneath him until he was on his back, his burnished golden-brown eyes nearly swallowed by pupil, his face flushed red with arousal. His lips were red and swollen from being bitten, and his cock wept precome even as Dorian watched, the head red and slick.

"I want to feel it. Now get that fucking cock in me, unless you want to be flat on your back with your knees around your ears while I ram  _ my  _ cock into  _ you!"  _

Dorian debated for a moment, then grinned. "Next time, Commander." He shimmied out of his underwear, kicking the small scrap of silk aside, and lined up, stroking his cock a few times to slick it thoroughly. Pressing in slowly, Dorian found himself trembling, shaking like he hadn't since his first time, sweat breaking out on his brow and down his spine. "Kaffas!  _ Vishante kaffas, fasta vas!  _ So tight, Cullen!" The head of his cock popped past the ring of muscle at last, and they both let out a groan, even as Cullen's cock wept more precome between them.

"Dorian, fuck me, hard, fast, I want to feel it!" Cullen ordered, clenching like a vise around him. Dorian groaned again, steeling himself carefully.

"I won't last if I do," he warned, and Cullen gave him a feral grin. 

"There's always a next time," Cullen declared with a smirk, and Dorian snapped his hips forward, drawing a gasp and widened eyes from the golden man beneath him. "That's it, fuck me raw, Dorian, come on, give it to me!" Dorian fought to keep control as the Commander's filthy mouth egged him on, until finally, he snapped, grabbing Cullen's good knee and hiking it over his shoulder. Spread wide, Cullen could do little but take it as Dorian pounded into him, Dorian's broad frame nearly a match for the Commander's and leverage was on his side as he rammed his cock deep into the other man. The mage pulled at Cullen's hips, tilting them just so and Cullen exploded into a slew of blasphemous filth as Dorian nailed his prostate over and over. "Fucking fill me up, that's it, Andraste's dripping cunt, is that all you've got?"

Dorian smirked above him, his nails biting into Cullen's thigh and side as he pistoned his hips harder and faster. "Your cock is the one dripping for me, Cullen, in fact, you look like your about to blow your top. Going to come on my cock, Cullen? Want me to fill you with my come, soaking you inside?" Cullen moaned at his words, nodding furiously as he reached for his cock. Dorian slapped his hand away, tsking as he moved Cullen's hand to hold behind his knee, supporting his leg. "Oh no. You'll come on my cock or not at all."

Cullen whined as he writhed underneath him, moaned as Dorian reached down and played with his nipples. Cullen's cock jumped, slapping against Dorian's stomach, and Dorian bent to capture his mouth as he curled close, grinding into his lover with every thrust of his hip. He felt the warm wetness of precome against his stomach and moaned into Cullen's mouth, his cock aching, his balls starting to tightened.

Trailing kisses along Cullen's jaw, he worked his way over his throat, nipping at his pulse and sucking a mark over his collarbone.

"Fuck, Dorian, bite me, hard!" Cullen ordered, and Dorian complied, his teeth clamping over the muscle at neck and shoulder just shy of too much. Cullen howled underneath him, his body seizing and clenching, firing ropes of hot come between them. Dorian tumbled over the edge with him, emptying himself in the scalding heat of Cullen's body, before slumping over him.

As their sweat cooled and their breathing slowed, Dorian slowly kissed his way back to Cullen's mouth. Trading gentle touches and easy caresses they lay tangled together, falling into a light doze in the afternoon sunlight.

A heavy tread woke them an hour later, accompanied by a booming voice.

"Hey boss, so you keep the new model to yourself?" Bull asked as he looked them over unabashedly.

"Vishante kaffas, get out of here, Bull!" Dorian ordered, even as Cullen held a pillow over his groin and laughed.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Radaan for beta-ing!


End file.
